


Magnolias & Cherry Blossoms

by Zendelai



Series: Jasmine & Orange [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Post-Dragon Age 2, a little smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-22 02:22:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3711250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zendelai/pseuds/Zendelai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events that Anders set in motion, Isabela will do whatever it takes to ensure that Merrill remains safe. </p><p>Giveaway prize for becominglolalu over on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Magnolias & Cherry Blossoms

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lola99](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lola99/gifts).



Anders, bloody _Anders_ , to the Void with Anders and Justice and the madness they created.

 

I understand the principal of his actions. Frankly, mages are treated like shit, vilified for what they are, torn away from their families to be scrutinized by templars while they do everything from eating breakfast to taking a shit. But Andraste's frilly knickers why did he think that blowing up the fucking Chantry would solve that?

 

Did he not realize that it was going to make life even worse for mages by having the Divine on their doorstep instead of templars?

 

Maker, what a cocked up mess.

 

The whole thing was a bloody cock up, really. Not just Anders, but Orsino becoming a huge, fat abomination and Meredith becoming a jack rabbit with a massive sword.

 

Why, oh why, couldn't people just leave the weird shit alone for once?

 

Well, at least the weird shit is good for Varric. I can see him now, curled up over his desk, frantically describing the events of the Chantry in as lavish detail as possible. It'll be a bloody bestseller.

 

Too bad it meant absolute shit for the rest of us.

 

Anders was...

 

I still remember the sick sound of Hawke's knife between his ribs. I've killed many and watched even more die, but that one was one I'll never forget.

 

Hawke and Fenris are gone. They didn't tell us where. It's not that they didn't trust us, but they knew that if anyone caught us, it would end poorly for all of us.

 

Sebastian was inconsolable. He helped in that last fight, but I haven't seen him since. He lost the last person he considered family, other than Hawke, so Maker, I can't blame him.

 

Varric is staying in Kirkwall with Aveline, for now. "Cleaning up the mess", he puts it.

 

I knew I couldn't stay there. Not that I'm concerned about my own ass, but damn am I ever worried about Merrill's right now.

 

She's a bloody blood mage after all, the moment she's caught she'll be slaughtered like a calf.

 

I can't let that happen.

 

I won't let that happen.

 

So as I watched the Chantry blow, I knew what I had to do.

 

At the start I told her I wanted to 'vacation' in Tevinter. I told her that I had heard that it was beautiful at this time of year, with the magnolias and cherry blossoms. She thought that was delightful, of course. Anything that grows is delightful to her.

 

Merrill may be naive, but she's not a fool. She knows now that we're going there to stay, because it's the only place that will be somewhat safe for mages during this storm of shit. It may not stay safe, but it is for now, and that's good enough for me.

 

My head aches, so I pinch the bridge of my nose.

 

I gaze out of the port hole of our shared captain's quarters. Merrill has finally come up for air, and I watch the breeze whipping through her short hair, sending it every which way. Her eyes are closed and she looks peaceful; not wholly, but more than she has since we watched the Chantry get blown to smithereens, and that tiny slice of peace makes this whole bloody trip worth it.

 

I take a swig from my hip flask and it heats my tongue, my throat, my limbs.

 

It's a new day, and there's a flash of hope on the horizon. Maybe, some how, we'll slog through this mess, just like we've always done.

 

\--

 

I was very quickly learning that boats -- no, _ships_ , Merrill, _ships_ \-- were not for me.

 

I suppose I could see the allure of the salty sea air, the meals filled with fish so fresh they were almost squirming on the table, and the peace of being surrounded by nothing but a lot of water. Really, really dark water too, which made me think that the bottom was really far away. What would happen if I fell over the side? I can't swim. Would I just sink until I reached the bottom? How long would it take to reach the bottom? What would happen if I never reached the bottom? Would I just... keep sinking and sinking until I ran out of air?  That just really sounds dreadful. Oh, Creators, this is why I hate boats. (Ships, Merrill, they're ships.)

 

Isabela was trying really hard to get me to like the ship... or, well, tolerate it. It was a pretty thing, all strong wooden lines with a hefty mass and a strong bow and it can steer through any storm, no matter how strong (or at least, that's what Isabela says). Whenever I start to feel seasick from the rolling waves, she would give me fresh ginger from the kitchen and tell me to watch the horizon. Above deck and in the fresh air was always better than the heavy air of being under the deck, I suppose. The air does feel nice in my hair. I close my eyes and breathe it in, and it stings my nose, just a little. I don't mind, though. The air here is fresher than Kirkwall, at least. Although the boat -- Creators, _ship!_ \-- does smell an awful lot like the city did.

 

Before Anders blew up the Chantry and made it smell like ash, and blood, and death. His intentions were good, I know. He just wanted rights, real rights, for mages -- myself included -- but... what did he have to kill so many innocent people to achieve that goal?

 

Creators, what a mess.

 

I hear Isabela approach before I see her. Over the years I've started to learn the quiet brush of her footsteps, well disguised but still distinguishable. She moves like a cat, sauntering from one corner of the ship to the other, and the crewmen are all her mice. I feel her gentle touch on my hips as she stands flush behind me, resting her chin on my shoulder.

 

"Feeling better, Kitten?"

 

I shrug, and her head bobbles as I do. "A bit. I had some broth and it stayed down. How long until land?"

 

Soft, familiar lips brush against my cheek and I close my eyes to revel in the feel. "Only a few more days. Tevinter _is_ very far from Kirkwall."

 

I sigh. "I know. I just really miss grass. And trees. And birds. And all those things that smell nice."

 

With a firm grip, she plants her hands on my waist and spins me around, kissing me with pliant lips. I sigh when I feel her teeth run along my lower lip, and she squeezes my waist, pulling me in closer, to nibble on my neck.

 

She smells of whiskey. She's been drinking, more than usual, on this trip.

 

I think she's worried about Hawke. And Fenris. But mostly Hawke.  But... Fenris can take care of himself, and he's not a mage, so I know she's thinking about Hawke mostly.

 

I'm worried about Hawke, too. If Meredith had her way, both of us would have been killed those weeks ago.

 

Even though Meredith is dead, we all know it's far from over. The mages aren't going to come out of this one scott free, oh no, not when Anders struck at the heart of the holy.

 

Isabela pulls away to smile warmly at me, but there's a stiffness to the smile. I wonder if she's thinking about Hawke. Or Anders. She wasn't very happy with him, after everything.

 

I'm not either. We had a life in Kirkwall. Sure, my house was small and I didn't get to live in a clan but I had friends and I had a house and the Templars seemed to mostly give the Alienage a wide berth.

 

But as I look into Isabela's bright eyes, I have a realization that settles like a stone in my belly.

 

It doesn't matter that I had to leave the house behind.

 

And although I'll miss them, it doesn't matter that I had to leave my friends behind, too.

 

I have her.

 

I have Isabela.

 

And no matter where I end up, it will be with her, and to the Dread Wolf with the rest of it.

 

\--

 

Creators, the night sky is more beautiful tonight than I've ever seen it.

 

We're lying on a blanket together on the fore deck, and we're so far north that we can see the Northern Lights, green waves that rhythmically dance across the sky. Isabela is bathed in the light, and she's laughing at something I said, and I can't remember what I said that's so funny because she just looks so beautiful when she's this happy that I forget what I'm saying or doing or even thinking. Her beauty turns my mind into a blank canvas, waiting to receive paint created by her joy.

 

She grabs my hand and rolls me on top of her and I'm laughing, too, and I think this is the first time we've laughed together since we left Kirkwall and we feed off of each other until our sides hurt. When her cheeks are pink and her eyes are watering she sighs in contentment and I plant gentle, bird kisses on each of her cheeks.

 

So matter-of-factly it completely catches me off guard she says, "I think I love you, Merrill."

 

I can't help it; I gasp and ask incredulously, "You do?"

 

The corners of her eyes soften as her smile reaches them. "Yeah. I do." She closes her eyes and leans up and wraps her lips around mine, and they're delightfully warm and soft and taste a bit like honey. I kiss her back as hard as I can, pouring in the love that I, too, know is there.

 

Isabela runs her nails down my back and smacks my ass, giggling before rolling me onto my back. Roguish as she is she's already slipped off my tunic, and her kisses trail down my neck and chest to travel in circles around my breasts. Ever the wanderer, her hand slides down my bare stomach, pulling down my leggings and smalls. One long finger slides inside of me, slowly, and a hiss escapes my lips as I involuntarily tighten around her.

 

I giggle as I whisper, "Bela..."

 

Her hungry lips travel across my torso, licking and kissing and nibbling. I giggle when her kisses tickle the soft skin beside my hips before she travels up my torso again, her finger rhythmically sliding in and out of me, taking its time, moving with the gentle waves of the ocean.

 

For this rare moment, we are in no rush. Bela made all her sailors stay below decks for the night, so that for just a few hours, it could be nothing but us, the stars, and the sea water. Above me she is bathed in white and green light, my Goddess of the seas, this ruler of my body.

 

So lightly her thumb reaches to caress the pearl of nerves; my back arches and I bite my lip, momentarily overwhelmed with the new sensation. With one -- make that two -- fingers inside of me, her teeth grazing my nipples, and her thumb working the centre of my nerves, I feel the warmth build up in my core quickly. My breath comes rapidly and, hearing it, she begins to move quicker, whispering my name, asking me to let myself go for her, and when I let everything go with a rush I still see the stars behind my closed lids. Still trembling I open my eyes, and she's above me, smiling, really smiling, and I kiss her, and she tastes a little bitter and a little salty and still a tiny bit like honey.

 

I say, "You know I love you too, right? I have for a while. I don't know why I didn't say it. But I do."

 

She laughs, that open belly laugh that sends a jolt of electricity straight to my core, and she kisses me again, and it's so raw and full of the words left unsaid between us that I feel tears prickle in the corner of my eyes.

 

For so long I had thought that after we watched the Chantry explode and paint the sky red, after Meredith tried to invoke the Right of Annulment, we had both watched our home crumble. But as I looked into the eyes of the woman I had grown to love, who had started as a friend of Hawke's before becoming a friend of mine, turning into a hopeless infatuation before becoming a lover and finally a love, I knew where home was.

 

Home was with her. Whether it was here on the ship, or in Kirkwall, or eventually in Tevinter, as long as she was there, we would survive whatever the world tries to throw at us.

 

Grabbing my hand she rolls onto her back so that we're side by side, gazing into the skies again. I rest my head into the crook of her shoulder, breathing her in, my jasmine-and-orange woman.

 

"What will we be?" I ask her. "In Tevinter, I mean. I can craft potions, if you want to sell them. Or we could have a farm. Oh, can we have a pet nug? I've always wanted a pet nug."

 

Her eyes meet mine, and she rests her palm on my cheek. "We can have whatever you want, Kitten. This is our new life now, and we can live it as we please. But Maker, we are not keeping a nug in the house."

 

"An outdoor nug, then. We'll name him Garrett." I frown and whisper, "I miss them."

 

She pulls me flush against her, soothingly running her hands along my back. "I miss them too, Kitten. We'll invite them to our farm one day."

 

I whisper, "I hope we can."

 

We lay on the deck for an eternity, sometimes silent and drifting into a light sleep, sometimes talking and laughing until our bellies hurt. When the stars began to slip away under the bright sun, we could see seagulls on the horizon.

 

We were close to land. Maybe even Tevinter, and our new life.

 

I was ready.


End file.
